Clouds in my coffee
by BecauseI'mageek
Summary: When her boyfriend leaves her, Moira MacTaggert takes a job in Oxford, desperate to leave her old life behind. But when she meets Charles Xavier, a blue eyed Star Wars fan, Moira glimpses happiness. Can she catch it? AU
1. Chapter 1

The idyllic quiet of Oxford

A/N I decided to write this because I love the ship Charles/Moira, even if it's not a very common one. So this is it, hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, it all belongs to Marvel!

Moira sips her coffee nervously. She can't think of anything else to write for her report. The city is beautiful, full of beautiful things, but she can't write that. The CIA aren't particularly interested in the architecture of Oxford, just the people who move within it.

Not just any old people either. She couldn't write about the man jogging, or the lady walking her dog. She couldn't write about the children playing on the swings in the park, or the couple walking by the riverbank. She had to write about suspicious behaviour.

She snorts. As if there could be anything suspicious about the idyllic city of Oxford. It's too calm, too quiet, too sleepy. For a city, anyway. It's nothing like New York. New York is full of shouting, and hectic chaos, in a nice way. This place, it's nice to, but is the polar opposite. you can't compare either city to the other. It's like consorting the Shire to Minas Tirith.

She's sitting a cafe looking out onto the park. It's full of people, but she feels quite alone.

Nobody wants to talk to the quiet brown haired young woman in the corner, sipping her coffee and looking at the pad of paper on her table like it could explode any minute.

Although, Moira thinks, it's not the paper that's going to explode. It's Stryker's head when he gets her report and sees the lack of evidence that Agent Five has betrayed them and run away to live in England, that will explode.

The reason she was sent to England in the first place was because she was one of the best agents the CIA had to offer. Stryker had always been trying to get rid of her, as he was not fond of the fact that Moira was a woman. Any excuse, and she was sure she'd be fired.

Not that she minded that much, though. Lately the CIA had become rather a different place, and Moira wasn't drawn into the web of secrets anymore. She just wanted to leave, maybe settle somewhere, maybe here.

She didn't know which of the three main factors affecting her life right now was the one affecting her unhappiness at work.

Was it the fact that the CIA was suddenly too tiring, too complicated, not what she signed up for? That's not saying Moira was a quitter, just saying she was trying to figure out what was best.

Or was it the fact that her long term boyfriend, Simon, had just left her for her best friend? Two solid columns supporting her had gone, run away to Vegas to get married, leaving Moira with nobody.

Was it her? Had she, despite all her best intentions, given up?

She didn't know anymore.

She sighs deeply, feeling the tiredness wash over her in soft waves, blurring the edges of our vision. Moira closes the notebook, and walks out the cafe. She squints in the bright sunlight, and a few people watching her laugh. She glares at them and continues on her way.

On the way back from the cafe, she walks through the University Campus. The grass seems unnaturally green here, like it's from a sci-fi movie. Maybe it is from another planet. All the people here are so clever, maybe they've invented extra green grass. Whatever they've done, it adds a certain brightness and happiness to the place. It's full of incredible architecture, and makes her feel like she really wants to leave her old life behind, settle here in England, forget about everything and everyone. Maybe become an old cat lady.

Moira laughs. Only 26, and picturing becoming an old cat lady? Maybe there really was something wrong with her.

"Laughing to yourself is the first sign of madness you know." Moira spins at the voice. She thought she was alone in the this quiet courtyard, and she jumps.

Behind her stands a young man, the eyebrows above his bright blue eyes raised. Moira blinks, then smiles. His brown hair falls slightly over his face, covering over his forehead a bit, and his lips are ready to smile. Moira knows that feeling, but hasn't felt it for a long time. It's the feeling she got when she first saw Simon. And look how that turned out.

"I thought it was talking to yourself." She smiles again.

He smiles too, and it lights up his whole face. Is he _flirting_ with her?

"We must have different sources." He laughs, the British accent strong. "Would you like to come for a drink with me?" He grins lopsidedly.

Moira blinks again. Woah, forward much! But some, distant, lost part of her likes it. A hint of a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.

She's about to say no, say that she's tired, but then suddenly, she checks her feelings, and she doesn't feel tired anymore. She feels awake. Awake, alert.

She thinks about Simon, about her last relationship, which was a disaster. She thinks of how she shouldn't risk it, she should stay at home with the ice cream( chocolate) and a box set of Downton Abbey. Perfect.

The future she glimpsed earlier flashes before her eyes. Her, as an old cat lady. She shivers inwardly, careful not to look like a weirdo. But the look the blue eyed man is giving her, she thinks she could do a cartwheel and he'd still be smiling at her. He smiles at her as if she's the most beautiful thing he's ever set eyes on, and this makes Moira feel a bit better. It gives her hope.

Hope that her life doesn't have to be heartbreak and paperwork.

The sun shines as she agrees, and walks with this young man down through the park.


	2. Chapter 2- Taker of risks

Moira MacTaggert- Taker of Risks( or so she likes to think)

A/N Hello again! Here's chapter two :-)

Disclaimer: I own nothing ,it all belongs to Marvel!

"Charles Xavier." The man says, holding out his hand as they walk through the park.

She shakes his hand.

"Moira MacTaggert." She replies. He smiles, something she's become quite used to now, in only the space of a minute or so.

"So you are American." He remarks. "What brings you to England?" He shoots her a sidewise glance before staring out over the pond slightly to his right. "I hope it wasn't the weather." Moira can't help but smile at this. She looks at the sky, which is cloud free.

Moira shrugs.

"A change, I suppose." She's not lying. The reason she took the job, although she didn't think this through, was to get away from her job. Not as a holiday as such,but away from meetings and councils and the like.

"That's fair enough. Have you been doing much sight seeing? Oxford is very good for that, or so I hear."

Moira is surprised by his tone of voice. Usually when boys try to chat to her, you can tell they aren't very enthusiastic about what she has to say, and are just asking questions because apparently that is what girls like. But Charles seems genuinely interested, as if he truly cares. Maybe he does. Moira doesn't know.

"No, I've had a lot of work to do." She grimaces slightly. "Are you local?"

He shakes his head.

"No, actually. I grew up mostly in America, but moved to the Lake District when I was 16."

Moira raises her eyebrows.

"So why the accent?"

"I didn't leave the house much, and my parents were also British. I was a bit of a loner really." He smiles slightly, and laughs.

"Okay. Where were you?" Moira is yet again surprised by this new, confident, Moira. She's a little weird, but Charles seems to like her.

Charles smiles, obviously pleased for some reason Moira hasn't quite fathomed.

"New York state. What do you do?"

"Sales manager." Moira replies instantly. Something about him makes her want to spill the beans, and tell Charles the truth. But she's been drilled, and thoroughly, on the dangers of letting loose her identity. Dammit! She shouldn't even have told him her name! Her name is Audra Brown, and she is a sales manager from New Yersey.

Not Moira MacTaggert, surveillance agent, and taker of risks(of the spy kind, maybe not the boy kind)

Then again, this wonderful Charles person could be a spy. And if he is, he might know about Moira MacTaggert. What if he is, and doesn't care at all?

Moira could scream. Why oh why did she have to be a goddamn spy! It's ruined every relationship she ever had, and took over so much of her life, and has so far given nothing back except a small ounce of hard won respect from colleagues. And respect can't get her happiness.

Good thing Moira is trained in self defence. And infiltration. If this guy really is a spy, ( which she desperately hopes he isn't), she might be able to work this thing in reverse. Maybe get some useful information...

She snorts. As if. She's not a Bond girl, she's a slightly clumsy CIA Agent who likes to hum the Mission Impossible theme tune to herself when filing paper and running around the office.

Charles looks up.

"Sales manager?" His tone is a tad sceptical. "Interesting..."

"Yes.. Very." Moira trails off, and looks at the ducks swimming in the pond to her left. "What about you?" She says, smashing the awkward silence that was threatening to cover them.

Charles spins, walking backwards in front of her to face her. A cheeky smile lights up his face, reaching right up to his eyes. Which, Moira notices, are as blue as the sea, big waves of kindness flowing within them.

She blinks. She didn't realise she was a romantic poet now.

"I'm still studying at the university." Charles answers. Moira sighs. Another one who looks older than he is. Great, she'd better go before he realises she is 26. Much older than he is.

Charles notices her tired look.

"Is something wrong?" He asks. His eyebrows are raised. Moira looks at her feet. Honesty is the best policy. Supposedly.

"I just realised how much older than you I am."

Charles laughs, raising his eyebrows, undeterred.

"Oh really?" Moira nods. "Well, I'm 27, so you must look very good for your age." He smirks.

"Oh." Moira replies, relieved and embarrassed. "I'm 26."

Charles adds a smile to join his smirk.

"Told you." He takes his left hand out his pocket and gestures around him. "Here," he makes a wide, sweeping gesture to a small cafe, "or there?" He asks, pointing to a very English looking pub at the end of the road.

Moira looks at Charles. Old her would have picked the cafe, calm and sweet. And new her, well she's not entirely sure what new her would do. But the pub seems like the best option on her opinion.

"There." She grins, taking Charles' arm.

He raises his eyebrows.

"Did not expect you to say that."

"Why not?" Moira frowns. Charles laughs again

"Because you look so... So."

"So what?"

"So.. Above that sort of thing. In a good way, of course." He winks.

Moira frowns, but then laughs. Seems like becoming someone new needs some changes on the outside as well. Ah well, she had nothing planned tomorrow apart from eating biscuits in front of her favourite films, so she could go shopping. She looks down at her skirt suit. She sighs. She does look above all these things.

Depends if Charles asks you out again! A cheeky part of her brain thinks. Moira blushes, and it's Charles turn to frown in confusion.

"What?"

"Oh nothing." Moira giggles slightly. Charles shrugs.

"Onwards we go." He laughs, and they walk across the road.


	3. Chapter 3- See you again

See you again

A/N hello

Talking with Charles is much easier than Moira thought. He's funny, and seems to thinks she's funny as well; he laughs his head off about some of the things she says. And vice versa.

A lot of other, prettier women try to grab Charles' attention( well, Moira thinks, he's easily the most good looking guy in the place) but every time Charles ignores them, turning back to Moira and making a joke. Moira can't help but feel a little smug.

And so here she is, in a pub at 11 o clock at night, slightly drunk and giggling with Charles about some story she just told him about the way Simon used to eat his cornflakes. The barman smiles kindly at them, but tells them nonetheless that he's closing the pub in ten minutes, so they'd better get a move on.

Charles nods, although he's not exactly taking in his words. He looks up when Moira( who is less drunk than he is, but not by much) takes his arm, and gestures towards the door. He follows her.

Outside, it's dark and cold. The streetlights turn the puddles constantly at the side of English roads orange, and cars drive past fast, spraying the pair. It's a big change from the pub, and suddenly Moira feels quite alone.

She turns to Charles, who has the same slightly sad look on his face as she does.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Charles asks hopefully, sobering up slightly. Moira likes the way the grin reaches right to his eyes, lighting them up like someone has flicked a switch. It's cute. There's something about him which she just gets, not like with Simon, where practically everything was a challenge, now that she looks back at it. Talking with Charles just feels right.

He's not aware of much at the moment whilst he waits for Moira to answer, Charles thinks. He's a little too drunk for that, and every splash of water from the puddles blown up by the cars is a surprise. But what he is aware of is his desperation for her to say 'Yes'. He likes her, really likes her, and he suddenly gets what his school friend Adam said about finding the right person. Suddenly, it just pits like a jigsaw puzzle, and you want to show them everything special to your life, your favourite film, where you go when you're sad, because you just feel like they will understand. He hopes Moira likes (insert film) and quiet ponds in the middle of nowhere.

Moira blushes, about the ask the question herself.

"Yes, of course." No, wait, did that sound to eager? Moira sighs in relief as Charles grins broadly.

"Great!" He exclaims, a little too loudly, and they both laugh. Quieter, he goes, "Can I have your number?"

Moira nods, and pulls her phone out her pocket,as does Charles. They swap, and type in the numbers. Moira is annoyed to see that Charles has a much better phone than her, even though she's never cared before, and her annoyance rises when she can't work out how to work Charles' fancy phone. He notices this, and laughs, and types her number into his phone with her reciting it for him."Great." Charles repeats. "So, I'll see you tomorrow?" He smiles, and Moira does too.

"Yes." She blushes, and turns to walk away.

Just before she can though, Charles quickly kisses her cheek. She blushes, and Charles walks off, walking backwards and waving. Moira waves back.


	4. Chapter 4- A New Hope

A New Hope

A/N Hi! Sorry if updates are a little irregular, school has started again, so homework is being given to us as freely as sweets chucked into a crowd of little kids. And unfortunately, it has to be done. Anyways, hope you like this chapter!

Waiting for the text is pure, horrendous agony.

Moira sits on the sofa in her hotel room, staring at the block of plastic she now loathes( for not beeping) that is lying on the coffee table. Every ounce of her is silently urging the phone to beep, ring, chirrup, or whatever it is that phones do to signal a message. She's had many different phones, as she frequently drops and smashes them, and they all make( or made) different noises.

Every time Moira has to get up to go to the toilet, or get a glass of water or a biscuit, she walks calmly away, and then sprints faster than a 100m Olympic runner to the phone, switching onto the screen to see if there's a message, although the speed at which she goes back might change if there's a message or not. And yet, nothing.

It's kind of ironic that she's in the shower when the phone finally rings, vibrating against the table. The vibrations feel like the beats of her heart, and the phone shakes so much the friction causes little fart like sounds( A/N My phone does this, it's quite weird, and also terrifying at the same time). Moira jumps, screams slightly in surprise, and runs out the shower, only just stopping to wrap a towel around herself. She may want to take this call very badly, but she'll keep hold of her dignity, thank you very much.

She answers on the fifth ring.

"Hello?" She asks breathlessly.

"Hi." Charles replies, and he pauses. "Are you out of breath?"

Moira tries to breathe more carefully.

"No." She squeaks.

Charles laughs, a sound which is transfigured by the receiver into a crackly laugh, rather than the smooth, musical one she knows belongs to Charles.

"Anyone would think you ran to the phone." He laughs again, and Moira blushes, and laughs shakily. No... She thinks... Of course I didn't. Ha.. Ha.

"No, course not. I was just..." Moira thinks of a suitable thing for her to be doing. "Reading." She says finally, her eyes catching a book shelf in the corner of the room.

"What were you reading?" Charles asks. From somebody else, Moira would think they were challenging her, trying to catch her out. But she knows Charles has a genuine interest in books, and slaps her forehead. Think, Moira, think.

She scans the bookshelf, but she's too far away to see the names written on the spines of the books.

"Um... Pride and Prejudice." She says. At least her crazy and flustered brain picked something she's read, so at least she can cover if Charles asks further. Which, thankfully, he doesn't.

"Oh, wonderful." He says. "Haven't read it myself, but it's on my list."

"You have to read it!" Moira almost shouts, before she can stop herself. "Sorry. It's one of my favourites." She adds.

Charles dissolves into peals of laughter, or at least that's what it sounds like from this end of the phone. Moira waits awkwardly.

"I will, don't worry." Charles says at last. "How about dinner tonight?"

Moira shuts her eyes and screws up her face to prevent herself from screaming in happiness. Ohmygod, she thinks, I'm seeing him again! ...and breathe, Moira, breathe.

"Yes. Okay." She squeaks.

"Brilliant." Charles says.

When Charles hangs up the phone, he fist pulls, and then looks around guiltily to see if anyone saw. They didn't, though. He lives alone, after all.

Charles laughs at something Moira says at the restaurant, making her grin. She spears a green bean and finishes telling the story. Charles snorts, attracting some looks from nearby diners, who have been looking down at them all evening.

"Whoops." Moira says. "Don't die on me."

"I won't." Charles grins, recovering from the laughter.

"What's your favourite film?" Moira asks curiously, resting her chin on her hand. Charles frowns, thinking, then replies.

"A New Hope."

It's Moira's turn to frown. She doesn't know that one.

"What is it about?" She asks, then pauses when Charles takes in a deep breath, a scared look on his face and his eyes widening. It takes Moira a second to realise he's reacting in mock anger, not real.

"It's Star Wars IV!" Charles tells her. Moira shakes her head.

"I'm still lost." Moira says, and laughs slightly when Charles moves his plate to the side and bangs his head on the table. When he lifts his head, a curious light is alive in his eyes.

"You've never seen Star Wars?" He says slowly. Moira nods, and frowns when Charles gets out his wallet. He throws a note on the table, then stands up. He's grinning.

"Come on." He says. "You are coming back to mine." Moira raises her eyebrows, and he blushes scarlet. "Not like that." He amends. "You are watching Star Wars."

Moira picks up her coat and follows him out the restaurant, ignoring the disapproving looks of the other people in the restaurant, who mutter something about 'young people these days'.

When the TV in Charles' tiny apartment stops showing the happenings of a galaxy far far away, Moira sits up, and turns to Charles.

"Does Han confess his obvious love for Leia? Do they defeat the Empire?" She says very quickly, so quickly it comes out as something like "doeshanconfessforleiaanddodefeatempire."

Charles laughs, and grins, not trying to make sense of the nonsense just spouted at him.

"You'll have to watch the next ones."

She glares at him.

"Do you have the next one?" She asks, angling her head in one side. Charles pretends to look offended.

"Of course!" He grins. "Shall I put it on?"

Moira nods quickly, and he laughs, throwing his head back. He doesn't make any move to get up though, so she pokes his arm, glaring again. This make him laugh more, and he gets up.

"Okay, okay!" He laughs, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I'm going, I'm going."

Moira watches him go over to his rack of DVDs (alphabetised) and run his finger over the spines of all the cases, searching for the right one. He pulls it out, and turns to her, raising it for her to see.

Moira feels her stomach dive through the floor, and she looks down to watch it fall. No, it's only been, like, two days. He can't be making her feel like this already. Can he?

Then, she thinks, the name of the wonderful film she's just watched is kind of ironic. _A New Hope._ But a New Hope for what?

No, don't think it Moira. Don't be such a cliché.

She thinks it anyway. _Love._


	5. Chapter 5- Singing in the Rain

Singing in the Rain

A/N Hi, welcome to chapter five! I'm sorry it took so long to write, so thanks for sticking with me, thanks for reading and feel free to leave a review :-)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, it all belongs to Marvel and Gene Kelly

Charles shivers, and pulls Moira closer to him. They're standing in the doorway of a closed cafe, waiting for the bus and trying to keep out of the rain. She smiles, and tucks her head into his shoulder.

"Brr… why was this is a good idea?" Charles asks, and both laugh.

"We did enjoy the movie." Moira says, thinking back to the moment when she chucked her popcorn all over Charles after she jumped at somebody smashing through the window in Jason Bourne's apartment. She grimaces guiltily, some poor soul is probably still cleaning up the popcorn.

Charles nods, his breath condensing in the cold air as he blows all the air out of his cheeks.

"Yes, it was very good." He agrees, leaning out into the rain to look for the bus. Seeing no headlights, he pulls his head back under the thin ledge protecting their heads from the rain. "But why did we go to the 11.00 p.m. showing?" He raises his eyebrows at her.

She laughs, and rolls her eyes back at him.

"Because you had to meet your friend Erik for dinner, instead of coming with me."

"Oh, yeah. Just like _last_ Friday, when you missed meeting my lovely sister, Raven, to go and quit your job!" Charles protests, and Moira laughs again.

He's right though, she did miss meeting Raven. But quitting her job felt _so good,_ once she'd decided to do it she just couldn't wait any longer. Anyway, she met Raven on Saturday as she was visiting for the weekend, and she was lovely, just like Charles had always claimed.

She remembers the astonishment in the voice of Stryker when she told him she was resigning.

"MACTAGGERT!" He'd spluttered down the phone. "YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS?"

"Yes, sir, I'm perfectly serious." She'd replied calmly. "I just don't think this job is for me anymore."

"But you're one of our best agents!" Was the best excuse he'd come up with to try and persuade her to stay.

"Well, isn't that a shame." Moira had replied. "If you'd told me all this before, perhaps I would have stayed."

Then she hung up.

Charles had been surprised when she told him she'd quit her job, and when he asked her why she'd shocked herself by telling him the truth. She'd told him her job was dull, tiresome, and required her to leave Oxford, which she never wanted to do.

Then Charles had grinned, and helped her get a job as a journalist with the _Oxford Times_ , and had even helped her search for a nice apartment.

Moira glances at Charles, who is looking out for the bus again, and smiles to herself.

Charles ducks his head back under and shakes off the rain like a dog, with much protesting from Moira.

He shivers, then looks at her quizzically. She frowns.

"What?" She asks, and he laughs.

"I just realised, although I made you watch Star Wars, you never told me what your favourite film was." He grins, and she bites her lip, thinking.

"Singing in the Rain." She says finally, and Charles pulls a face. "What?"

"A _musical?_ " Charles protests. Moira rolls her eyes.

"Boys can like musicals too, you know."

"I know. Just this one doesn't. I mean, they just _sing_."

"Well, that is the point of a musical." Moira replies dryly, and Charles laughs again.

"But it's so dull." Charles continues, and Moira puts a hand up grumpily to silence him.

"If I watch your favourite films, you can watch mine."

"But you liked Star Wars."

"True, but I hated Die Another Day." She points out, and Charles groans.

"I don't see why you hate James Bond so much!"

Moira sighs. She's explained this before.

"Because I hate the fact that all the Bond girls do is look pretty! I mean, Halle Berry's character was pretty good, but all the female characters do is get wooed by Bond, dumped by Bond, and maybe die a dramatic death if they're lucky!" She says grumpily, and Charles laughs.

"But they're of their time."

"Then why are they still making them now, in 2002, when feminism and empowerment is on the rise?" Moira asks. Charles shakes his head, chuckling.

"Okay, I get your point there, but what about the entertainment aspect? It's so exciting! All the spy stuff. Wouldn't you want to be a spy like him?"

Moira scoffs.

"Those films are so inaccurate. Being a spy is nothing like that, I assure you. It's all paperwork and binoculars, they just glam it up for the films." She bites her tongue before she can say more and curses herself. _You idiot, Moira!_

She sneaks a look at Charles, who is looking at her with an amused smile on his face. She blushes, and turns away.

"And how would dear Miss Mactaggert know so much about spies?" Charles teases. She hesitates. He should probably know, shouldn't he? Well, here goes nothing.

"Because dear Miss Mactaggert was a spy, for five years." Charles stays silent, so she continues. "For the wonderful CIA, filing reports, being whistled at, and receiving many comments about letting the 'real men' do the work."

Charles takes in a deep breath.

"When did you quit?" She sneaks another glance at him; he's watching her intently, serious for once.

"Last Friday."

"What did they say?"

She shrugs.

"Don't know, wasn't really listening."

"Why did you quit?"

"Was sick of it. Wanted to stay here."

Charles smirks suddenly then.

"And why did you want to stay here?"

That little smirk and those words let Moira know that it's okay, that she hasn't just thrown away the best relationship she's ever had. She smiles in relief, and is again relieved when he smiles back.

"Oh, no reason." She feigns indifference, and looks out down the street. Charles opens his mouth in mock horror, and pokes her arm. She gives in quickly. "Okay, I stayed because of you."

He laughs, and pulls both arms around her to kiss her forehead.

"Wow, Moira Mactaggert-Bond quitting her glamorous job as a spy for a science student at Oxford. Lucky me. And now I understand why you hate Bond films." He muses.

Moira laughs into his chest.

"Also it's really pretty here."

He nods.

"That it is."

They stand for a few seconds, swaying slightly, both smiling. Moira gasps, then pulls back. Charles looks at her in confusion.

"What?" He asks.

"I've worked out why you don't like musicals." She tells him triumphantly. He continues to frown.

"And that would be because…."

"Because you can't sing."

"And why would that have any effect on my liking of musicals?"

"You told me you liked drama at school, and that your school did alternate years of plays and musicals. That means, every other year, you missed a play, which you hated, as you couldn't sing and therefore couldn't audition for the play."

Charles stares at her for a second.

"Case solved." He chuckles. "Let me amend your name to Moira Mactaggert-Holmes."

He taps her on the nose. "But, I believe I have the voice of an angel."

"Is that a commonly held opinion?" She asks cheekily, and he pokes her shoulder in outrage.

"Watch me." He tells her. "I will serenade you with a song from your favourite film."

Moira raises her eyebrows, but gestures for him to start.

As Moira expected, Charles begins to sing in one of the _worst_ voices she has ever heard. And she went to school with her childhood best friend Emma Frost, who couldn't carry a tune to save her life. She got kicked off the school choir at 8 because of it, poor girl.

"I'm _singing in the rain…_ " Charles sings, and even though it's bad Moira finds herself humming along and liking the song nonetheless. "What a glorious _feeeling_ , I'm happy again." He tries to hit a note, and fails dismally, resulting in Moira shoving him out from under the cover and into the actual rain. He doesn't miss a beat, and keeps singing to her, complete with dramatic arm gestures.

"I'm laughing at the clouds, so dark up above!" He reaches out a hand to catch hers, and pulls her out onto the pavement. He's already soaked to the skin, and soon Moira is too. She sings along with him, laughing as he spins her round.

"The sun's in my heart, and I'm ready for love! I walk down the lane, with a happy refrain, just singin' , just singin' in the _raaaaiiinnn."_ They finish, with a final spin and arm throw.

Now they're not dancing, they're cold again and very wet, and Charles shivers, and wraps his arms around Moira again.

"I never knew I knew all the words to that song." Charles laughs.

"I did." Moira says, and just then, Charles spots some headlights and pulls away from Moira. He jumps up and down madly, waving his arms and shouting to the bus driver who can't hear him whilst Moira bends over double laughing at him.

The bus driver stops the bus, opens the doors, then raises his eyebrows at them, and looks between the rain dripping off of Charles' hair and the dry bus floor. Charles gives him his most winning smile, and Moira is surprised the driver doesn't immediately let them on, and let them take the bus for free.

"No." He says, and shuts the door and drives off.

Charles frowns, then turns to Moira with a shrug.

"I'd suppose we'd better get walking then."

She laughs, and links her arm through his.

"I suppose that's true."


	6. Chapter 6- Together

Together

A/N This is the last chapter; I'm really sorry about the randomness of when I post. I hope you've enjoyed this story.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, it all belongs to Marvel

6 months later

Charles laughs as he puts a teabag into both mugs and pours hot water over them. From where he's standing in the kitchen, he can still hear Moira making sarcastic comments over the film, which is a Bond. Moira had made him sit through about six viewings of Mulan, which Moira had claimed to be the best Disney film there was, so Charles had somehow convinced her to watch a Bond.

She wasn't taking it lying down though, pointing out all the flaws with the spying techniques, equipment and sighing dramatically whenever anyone swooned at Bond. Charles had tried to get her to stop, but then she'd reminded him of the shocking bad rendition of Singing in the Rain he sings every time they watch it, and he was quiet, all the while silently sniggering at Moira's comments.

He walks back in, and Moira gasps.

"You left the teabag in!" She protests, panicking to pull it out.

"Oh, sorry." He replies, and drops it on the plate on the coffee table.

"It's fine." She surveys the mug, and narrows her eyes at the tea. "Can I have some milk?"

"Of course." Charles rolls his eyes at her and stands up again. "You get always get it yourself, though." He teases, and receives a glare in return.

"Well, it's not my house." She protests. "I don't know where you keep milk."

"In the fridge." He replies, turning away to walk towards the kitchen. "Which you'd know if you lived here."

"But I don't."

"True, but you could." Charles says before he can stop himself. He stops walking, and behind him Moira doesn't say a word. He turns around, and sees Moira holding her mug in both hands with her mouth open.

"Did you.. Did you just…" She whispers.

"I think I did." He says quietly back, and they both grin simultaneously. Moira places her mug down and gets up.

"Are you serious?" She asks, and he nods.

"Yeah. I am." He smiles shyly, and puts an arm around her shoulder, kissing her forehead. "What do you say?"

"Yes." She replies. "I'd love to come live with you."

"Really?"

"Really." She affirms with a smile. Her eyes drift towards the door. "One sec."

She walks towards the door, where she sees Charles' boots sitting on the wooden shoe rack. She kneels down, and picks up her own ballet pumps from the floor.

She smiles, and knows that Charles is smiling too from where he's standing behind her, leaning against the doorframe.

"What are you doing?" He asks with a chuckle as she puts her ballet pumps on the shoe rack next to his boots. She smiles. Together. Where they belong.

"I'm giving you my heart." She says, turning back to look at him. "Please don't break it."


End file.
